


Next to Abnormal

by pistolpackingmama



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: F/F, Modern AU, Slow Burn, Superpowered Sole Survivor, superhero au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-14 12:18:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5743585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pistolpackingmama/pseuds/pistolpackingmama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Diamond City, the real heroes aren't just the ones hiding behind masks. (Alternatively, my self-indulgent Superhero AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Justice, security, freedom. These values are not only the cornerstones of our Great Green Jewel of the Commonwealth, but something that the people feel are under threat by the latest unprecedented undermining of Mayor McDonough’s control over the city. I am talking, of course, about the masked vigilantes, gifted or otherwise, taking the law into their own hands.**  
**Some say that these people are heroes who risk life and limb to help those that the city seems to have given up on, keeping the streets that bit safer for those who can’t protect themselves. That they not only stop the crimes they come across as they happen, but fight against the injustices that are too wrapped up in red tape by our police and our courts to ever be efficiently dealt with. Others think that they are nothing more than cowards, concealing their real identities while they break the law and status quo to deal out their own warped sense of comeuppance. After all, if they have nothing but good intentions, why hide from the long arm of the law under guises and flashy costumes?**  
**People have many different opinions about the topic, but what I think we need are more questions. What drives these vigilantes to risk persecution for the sake of the people of this city? Why shouldn’t they protect their identities, after Mayor McDonough demands that all “abnormal” citizens should be documented in a registry, for reasons he refuses to explain to us? Could all the collateral damage, caused by the masked crusaders, have been prevented if we invested as much of the taxpayer’s dollars in better equipping and training our police as we do repairing said damage?**  
**If we do not want to worry about the problems caused by people running around wearing capes, we have to start tackling the issues of misused public finances, corrupt law enforcement, and the further “othering” of the people who can do things that we can’t. Mayor McDonough can only distract us so long by laying the blame for all our troubles at the feet of unidentified citizens of Diamond City. Experiments, freak accidents or a random set of genetics did not turn these people into vigilantes. Ineffective leadership and bureaucracy did, and will continue to do so until we demand the change we deserve.**

There were very few constants in Piper’s life, she knew that much. All she could count on was Nat being there to greet her when she got home, someone somewhere wanting her dead, and the mild sense of security that came with the weight of her worn pistol strapped to her side. And, she thought as her phone started buzzing in her pocket, the one thing that rolled around like clockwork each and every week. She didn’t bother looking at the screen or breaking her stride when she answered, already knowing the exact conversation she’d have to push herself through. Again.

“We can’t publish an article like that again, Piper. I mean it.”

  
“Uh huh, just like you meant it last week. And the week before.”

The streets were never too busy this time of the evening, the quiet break between people filing home from their nine-to-fives and the same people bustling out to get inject some life into the city’s night. No throngs to press through, no equally obnoxious people to compete with to be heard. The perfect time to listen to the editor tell her how she was a shame to the entire institution of journalism.

  
“Seriously. Do you have any idea how many people have written to us about your last piece? And no, they’re not exactly timid about saying exactly what they think of what you wrote”

  
“If it’s half as many as I had on my doorstep this morning, then sales must be through the roof. You’re welcome, by the way.”

A ghost of a smirk played on her lips as her editor sighed, sounding just exasperated enough for Piper to know where this was going. Her pace slowed, feeling too close to home for this conversation to be happening.

“I swear, you’re almost more trouble than you’re worth.”

The little laugh that escaped her was far more nervous than she would have liked, too similar to the sudden hollowness gnawing in her chest.

“C’mon, we both know that I’m worth every angry letter, Richards. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got some things to care of. Same time next week?”

With a dull beep from the other end of the line, Piper felt herself let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, that she never expected herself to be holding. Another week done, another week with their heads kept above water. She let out a shuddery breath, then another one. Breath after breath until she started to feel human again. Piper was almost more trouble than she was worth, and that almost was all that kept a roof over her and Nat’s heads some days. Finally, with the ache no longer threatening to pull her apart, she headed into her apartment building with an effortless, practiced grin ready for her sister.

~

“Piper, we’re out of Sugar Bombs again.”

Nat tugged the blanket off of Piper, poking her sister’s cheek for good measure. The older Wright groaned, trying in vain to wrench the blanket back from Nat.

“Urgh, what time is it?”

“Time to get Sugar Bombs.”

 In spite of her groggy eyes and mumbled protests, Piper sat up from the bed and pulled on her boots.

“Har de har har, you’re a real comedian, sis.”

Stretching her arms over her head as she stood, she let out a tired laugh at the sight of her sister in the doorway, wordlessly holding out her jacket. She took it and shrugged it on, pressing a kiss to the top of Nat’s head on her way out the door.

“I’ll be back in a minute, don’t open the door for anyone.”

“Wait, you forgot something.”  
  
Piper turned on her heel to see Nat running over to the door with her reporter hat, the little scrap of paper that read ‘Press’ bringing a smile to her face as easily now as it did when Nat first slipped it into the hat’s band years ago.

“The press never rests, remember?”

Chuckling, Piper fixed the hat on her head.

“Damn right it doesn’t. But ten year olds do, so you better be in bed by the time I get back, alright?”

Nat mumbled in protest as Piper ruffled her hair on the way out. Locking the door behind her, Piper made her way down the stairs to the lobby. She was sure someone put more there whenever she was tired, just to inconvenience her. After what seemed like an hour to her groggy mind, she finally left the lobby and walked her well worn path to the 7/11 a few blocks down the street.

God, when was the last time she’d seen the stars without the hazy glow of Diamond City hiding all but the brightest of them? Piper was no stranger to the darkened streets of the city, but it was only on crisp, clear nights like this that she felt that twinge of nostalgia playing at heart strings. Sighing and breaking her gaze away from the obscured skyline, she shifted her bag of groceries from one hand to the other. She had lost count of all the times she was grateful for how long the 7/11 down the street stayed open. Daylight seemed to slip away from her far easier than she would admit and, she supposed, there was something almost comforting about seeing that even the city itself had an ebb and a flow to it, a manic energy and a quiet hush.

Not hushed or comforting enough apparently, she thought, as the sound of slightly rushed footsteps started to echo louder than her own through the not quite empty street. The groceries shifted between her hands again, her right now free to rest on the grip of her pistol. She picked up the pace, walking briskly with her heart thrumming in her ears, despite herself. Eyes, throat, solar plexus, groin. Eyes, throat, solar plexus, groin. It was probably just a couple of other busy people like herself, she rationalised, no need for her to be so on edge. Then there was a firm hand grasping her elbow, strong enough to stop her in her tracks. A voice, hushed and not close enough to belong to the stranger with the tightening grip almost bruising her through the red leather. Keep your cool, Pipes, just stay calm.

“Just hand over your money, no need for this to get ugly.”

It all happened in a blur. Fingers wrenched backwards with a crunch and a curse. Groceries tossed to the ground as Piper turns, every muscle in her body taut and tense. A swift punch to the groin before he could land a hit. Scuffling in the background, something moving in the corner of her eye. A pained groan as he doubled over on himself. Piper’s knee rushing up to meet him with a sickening crack. There’s more of them, she knows there is. Pistol now in hand, she whips around with every intention of shooting the next fucker to make a move towards her. Two people left on the street, one slumped on the ground with his head lolled to one side. The other one almost looked amused but it could have been a trick of the light, a blue mask hiding the top half of her face as she held her hands out in surrender, her tone far steadier than Piper felt.

“Woah there, just here to help, miss. Not that you needed much, by the looks of it.”

 With a raised eyebrow, Piper lowered the gun. In any other circumstances, she would have laughed. The bright mask matched the obnoxious jumpsuit perfectly. What was more unusual than that, Piper thought, was how wary the woman seemed. As easily she seemed to have taken down the second man, she still didn’t keep her eyes off the reporter. Her gaze kept flickering between her face and the pistol. With a sigh, Piper slipped it back to its familiar place at her side, pulse still racing. Her hands shook as she started to gather up her groceries, inwardly lamenting over the broken bag and the crushed box of Sugar Bombs.

“Thanks. I mean, I could have handled it myself but y’know. Not gonna turn down a helping hand.”

As if taking this a cue, the masked stranger picked up the last few bits of the shopping. Well, this was turning out to be one of the stranger nights Piper had had recently. The relative city silence hung over the street as the stranger handed everything back to Piper, a look of realisation dawning on her face.

“Hey, you look familiar. Wait, you’re Piper Wright, right? From Publick Occurrences?”

Her laugh came out dry, almost bitter. Of course. Not a moment’s peace, not even now.

“Let me guess, Blue. Another loyal member of the Piper fan club?”

She looked a bit taken aback, Piper’s tone cutting more that she had thought it would. She almost regretted it as she watched the other woman pause for a second, a thought whirring away behind her eyes. Her voice was softer when she finally spoke, a hesitancy just barely noticeable.

“I guess so. Last week’s column, the one about, well, people like me? I just wanted to say thanks. For not throwing us under the bus. For actually caring about why we’re out here like this.”

That was it, definitely the most surreal night of Piper’s year. For once, the reporter had no idea what to say. By the time she had her thoughts in order, she had to jog to catch up to the masked woman, a grin threatening to burst to the surface. The costumed woman stopped and turned, looking as if she wasn't sure whether to smile or run from the reporter.  
  
“Hey, Blue? How’d you feel about an interview?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Diamond City is by no means a perfect haven; like all sprawling metropolises, we have our fair share of crime, poverty, and injustice. Of course, we have brave members of the city trying to combat this in the best ways they can. Our police force, our court system, the neighbourhood watches scattered across the city. But some people feel like this isn’t enough, that the lengths these people go to in order to protect the citizens of Diamond City falls just short. The topic of these vigilantes is on the tip of everyone’s tongues, and was hot off the presses just last week in my last column. There are strong opinions of all sorts about them, but who in the world could help separate the fact from the fiction in the rumours surrounding the gifted among us?  
** **This reporter was lucky enough to secure an interview with one of these masked crusaders, after she stepped in and prevented an attempted mugging that I was almost a victim of. After agreeing to preserve her anonymity, ‘Blue’ offered some clarity as to what keeps her patrolling the streets day after day.**

**“** **_A lot of the time, the police can’t prevent crime. They’re doing their best, of course they are, but what good is that to the person who was just mugged, or raped, or murdered? I’m not trying to be above the law, or undermine the people who enforce it. I just want to stop people from getting hurt where I can.”_ **

**A noble cause, it would seem. But with these good intentions, why do ‘Blue’ and others like her, feel the need to hide from the public eye?**

**_“We have to think about our safety. Imagine criminals coming after you and your family, or even just the prejudice you’d have to face from strangers for being “abnormal”, as MacDonough so sensitively put it.”_ **

**It’s true that concerns like these aren’t baseless. More than one citizen of Diamond City has had their life threatened for standing against some of the criminals roaming free on the street. Surely, even with her identity securely hidden from the people she has clashed with, the danger must be immense. So, why does ‘Blue’ risk life and limb for strangers?** **  
** **  
**_“Because of the ‘gifts’ I have, I’d walk out of a fight in a better stage than the average person nine times out ten. When you have an advantage like that, how could you sit back and let people get hurt when you know you could have stopped it?”_

**There we have it. If people like ‘Blue’ are doing their best to keep the citizens of Diamond City, how can we be so sure that ridding Diamond City of their efforts is truly what should be done?**

Piper had to admit, a lot of time she went looking for danger in the name of the press. She wouldn’t be surprised if people didn’t believe that trouble found her as often as she found it. But she could have sworn that she’d come to the bank to have a few choice word with the teller about why her rent was taken out of her account early. Not to get first-hand experience for an exposé on bank heists. Peeking up from her position on the ground, she quickly did the maths. Six of them that she could see, half of them with submachine guns. No signs of any bulletproof vests under the suits, faces obscured by trilbys and bandanas. Definitely the Triggermen, no doubt about it. Taking a glance around, she wondered if there was any way to get some of the dozens of other hostages - oh fuck, she was a hostage, wasn’t she? - out before the police arrived. If the police arrived. It was fine, it was going to be fine. There was a huge difference between going to prison for armed robbery and murder, Piper reasoned. How likely was it that these goons would be willing to cross that line for their boss? The weight of her pistol by her side did little to comfort her; only if they started shooting. Only if she could save more than they’d kill.  
  
“Alright guys, gonna have to ask you to freeze. Or at least cool down a bit.”

 All but a few of the more anxious hostages craned their necks to gawk at the duo standing in the doorway. The speaker was a man with a remarkably forgettable face, eyes hidden his sunglasses.  It didn’t look like he had any weapons hidden under the maintenance jumpsuit, or any concern about the danger he just walked into. Posture relaxed, almost bored. The second figure was far more familiar and ostentatious. Blue addressed the Triggermen while making her way through the bank, still in the same ridiculous get-up as the day they’d met.

 “Now there’s two ways this can gonna go. Option one. You’re going to put down your guns, all these lovely people’ll get to leave and get on with their days, and you’ll be waiting here when the cops get here.”

 The Triggermen seemed just as confused as everyone else in the building, unsure whether firing on these weirdos would be helpful or require too much cleanup. Blue kept moving while her speech was paused, until she stopped at one of the desks. There was a hint of tension in the way she stood, and Piper could have sworn she could see a tremble in her shoulders from where she was watching on from.

 “Option two. Things get messy.”

 Her fist drives down onto the desk, a small chorus of screams echoing as sizable splinters went flying and the desk split into two uneven parts. Letting out a hiss of breath, Blue looked at each goon individually before speaking again.

 “So, what’s the pick of the day?”

 “You heard the lady. Pack it in or I’ll have to break out the laser eyes. And I’d hate to waste another perfectly good pair of contacts, so you’d really be doing me a solid.”

 Piper had almost forgotten he was there, too focused on Blue and the stark contrast of the red dripping down from her hand. Huh, she was wearing gloves this time, same shade as her suit. The Triggermen exchanged wary glances between themselves before one of them put her gun down on the ground in front of her, kneeling down with her hands behind her head.

 “What the fuck, Trish?”

 “I’m not fucking with laser eyes, no one pays enough for that shit.”

 A murmur of agreement rang out through the ranks, with each Triggerman soon adopting the same unarmed pose as Trish. Blue and her partner gathered up the firearms, the former only relaxing once they were far away from the would-be heisters. The bald man took two rolls of duct tape from his oversized pockets, handing one to Blue as they started to tie the Triggermen’s hands behind their backs. A few bewildered hostages made a break for the door, if hesitant stumbling could be considered ‘making a break’.

 “Alright, citizens. Go about your days. Appreciate your new lease of life, pet a puppy, go wild.”

 The bank gradually emptied out, bar a few well meaning witnesses and Piper. She wasn’t quite sure what was compelling her to stick around, but nonetheless she found herself approaching the two vigilantes almost done their work.

 “Next time, I’m thinking bows. Garvey would appreciate the metaphor of us leaving him presents going full circle, you know?”

 “Sure, Deacon. Teach me to tie ‘em, and I’m on board with that.”

 With Piper’s shadow darkening her view of her work, Blue glanced upwards. She was surprised, that much was obvious for the split second it showed. Shaking her head in disbelief and smiling, she continued wrapping up her final Triggerman.

 “You know, Piper, there’s easier ways to get my attention than getting caught up in heisting.”

 “I was trying to give you a call, but there’s so many ‘Blue’s in the phonebook, a girl just doesn’t have the time for all that trial and error.”

 A burst of laughter came from the two crime fighters, Deacon’s laugh lines mapping his face more obviously as he lightly punched Blue’s shoulder. Piper couldn’t help but laugh along with them.

 “She’s got you there, Fixer.”

 The amusement was short lived, with sirens beginning to screech softly and becoming less and less distant by the second. Cursing under her breath, Blue tugged Deacon to his feet and hurried to the fire door. Alarm bells rang obnoxiously loud when she flung the door open, her partner rushing past her as she held the door door for him. Time seemed to stop for a moment, bells and sirens echoing slowly while Blue called out something easily drowned out by the more chaotic sounds. If the other woman’s expectant look and waving hand were anything to go on, it could mean one thing.

 ‘Are you coming or not?’

 Familiar rush of adrenalin filling her veins, there was really only one thing she could do. Which is why she found herself running through the backstreets with two stranger-than-average strangers, blood pumping and exhilaration flipping her stomach in the best of ways. Only slowing down when Deacon let out a low whistle and gestured to a non-descript trash can just ahead of them. Piper tried to catch her breath, raising an eyebrow at the other two as they pulled out two backpacks from the garbage. She’d been in more than her fair share of chases, and generally stopping was never the best plan. She almost said so, a sarcastic quip on the tip of her tongue just as Deacon beat her to it while taking a wig from his bag.

 “Vigilante work one-oh-one; jumpsuits are obnoxious and gather attention, so that’s what cops look for. What they don’t look for is what you’re hiding underneath.”

 His point was made by the time he’d finished speaking and shifting into his new disguise. Deacon could have been an entirely separate person from the man from the bank. Simple jeans and white t-shirt combo, an (albeit fake) full head of hair, even his tone taking on a thicker accent halfway through his sentence. She had to admit, she was impressed.

 “Careful there, Deacon. We have to keep some of the tricks of the trade secret.”

 Blue looked as if she was joking under the mask, a smirk tugging her lips upwards as she shoved her tacky jumpsuit into her bag, but Piper could recognise that tone of voice anywhere. As unsurprising as it was, it looked like Blue had quite a few things that she didn’t want the reporter getting wind of. Of course.

 “Speaking of secrets, Blue, doesn’t this ruin the whole ‘gotta hide my face from the public’ bit you have going on?”

 A silent exchange between Deacon and Blue. A eyebrow arching above the lense of his sunglasses, a nervous shrug of her shoulders. Blue visibly cringed a bit, voice the slightest bit unsteady as she looked from Piper to Deacon to the bag she was zipping up, and back again.

 “You’re right, it does.”

 It wasn’t the silent request to leave that got under Piper’s skin. Okay, that was a lie. No point in starting anything just to abandon it (or her) halfway through. But the borderline pleading look on Blue’s face, the face she was still keeping obscured, was what sent the shiver along her shoulders and set her clenching.

 “Geez, Blue. I can take a hint.”

 She didn’t quite regret how clipped her tone came out, arms folded across her chest. An intangible something hung in the air, making the few feet between the two women seem like miles and miles to cross. Blue still looked almost pleading, almost apologetic, but her gaze wouldn’t meet the reporter’s.

 “Phew, did it just get chilly out here or is it just me?”

 Blue shot Deacon a warning look, mask crinkling over her furrowed brow. Another silent exchange, Piper noted, a quick series of expressions that ultimately ended in Deacon letting out an unsure little laugh and rubbing a hand along the back of his neck.

 “And I’m gonna go. Be seeing you, Fixer.”

 He headed off the way they’d been running only a few minutes ago with a wave over his shoulder to the remaining two, and a sudden limp. Blue watched him go, letting out a long breath as he turned the corner and became just another face on the street. Piper rolled her shoulders as the masked woman turned to face her again, her muscles tensing  themselves of their own accord. Blue smiled sheepishly, wringing her hands together as she spoke hurriedly.

 “This is actually a bit embarrassing. It’s not that I don’t want you around, I just forgot who you were for a second.”

 She always expected that it would sting less each time, that it wouldn’t feel like a slap to her face every time somebody clammed up the second they remembered that Piper was who (they thought) she was; pushy, relentless, and apparently without a shred of integrity.

 “If you mean the pushy reporter who’d have your face plastered around town as soon as you pull of that mask, then I gotta admit, Blue, I’m actually pretty damn hurt.”

 Piper expected a wince, maybe a badly hidden grimace, sure. But not the wide eyed, open mouthed look of shock, hands moving animatedly as a rush of jumbled apologies fell from her mouth.

 “God no, that’s not- I’d neve- I know you wou- I’m so sorry, I meant that I forgot you weren’t like me and Deacon for a second.  Have to admit, you really seem like the type. Trying to make things better anyway you can.”

 Oh. That was unexpected, to say the least. Piper felt a warm glow spread over her cheeks, hoping against hope that she wasn’t quite as red faced as she felt. She paused for a second, teetering on the edge of her whim for a second or two. But the look on Blue’s face, the awkward and vaguely hopeful half-smile, practically made the decision for her. A moment later she was scribbling away on her ever-present notepad, ears burning a bit when she handed the slip of paper to a confused Blue.

 “Here. My number. In case you ever want an extra set of eyes watching your back. Y’know, ones that aren’t laser powered.”

 Blue snorted a bit, posture relaxing a bit and her face brightening slightly as she looked down at the scrap of paper in her hands.

 "Laser eyes my ass, that was just his bluff. He used to play the bulletproof card, but then someone decided to test that theory out. You can imagine how that went.”

 Piper couldn’t help but laugh despite the questions on the tip of her tongue. Blue grinned, the expression only fading slightly as something in her bag started to buzz. She gestured to the bag, the piece of paper tucked away between her fingers.

 “I really have to go, but yeah I’ll be in touch.”

"I'll hold you to that, Blue."

A short wave and she was gone, slipping off her mask and tucking it in the side pocket of her bag as she jogged away. Piper shook her head with a disbelieving smile before making her way back to the busier streets of Diamond City. Call it a journalistic hunch, but she was pretty sure things were about to get a lot more interesting.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Received at 11:16pm_  
** **You’re not having a wild Friday night, are you?**

   
**_Sent at 11:20pm  
_****Sounds like you’ve something more fun and borderline illegal in mind. What’s the scoop, Blue?**

 

 **_Received at 11:22pm_  
** **Slow down there, Louise Lane. May or may not have stumbled on one of Skinny’s dens by Goodneighbour. Would like some back-up before heading in. If you’re not busy**

 

 **_Sent at 11:25pm_  
** **How quick do you want me there?**

 

 **_Received at 11:26pm_  
** **How fast can you get here?**

 

And that was how Piper found herself in a decrepit warehouse on the outskirts of Goodneighbour thirty minutes later, taking a quick inventory while Blue finished dragging the last few unconscious goons to the corner. Whichever pencil-pusher in the Mayor’s office said that the weapons black market in Diamond City was a thing of the past was sure gonna look stupid tomorrow, if the other dozen crates in the building looked anything like the one Piper had cracked open. Oh, she was going to have an absolute field day about this in the next column. Already sorting through potential titles in her head, the reporter took her time swapping the gaudy scarlet jumpsuit for her (mildly) less obnoxious jacket. The reporter was just after zipping away her crime-fighting ensemble in the bag when Blue gave her a friendly pat on the back, deceptively gently for someone who had ripped the door of its hinges ten minutes ago.

“Cops are on the way, nobody got too hurt, and there’ll probably be less people waving guns at around for the next few weeks. I’d chalk that up us another rousing success for Red and Blue.”

Piper rolled her eyes, nudging Blue in the ribs with a smile. She’d never admit it, but the nickname was gradually starting to grow on her. The masked woman grinned in response, starting to slip out of her own jumpsuit.

“We sound more like a jazz duo or Pokémon trainers than crime fighters.”

Blue shrugged and almost lost her balance as she tried to tug her boot through the leg of the jumpsuit. Stifling a laugh behind her hand, Piper watched her try and fumble way out of her costume. In the time it took the masked woman to free herself from the tangle, Piper had her pack of cigarettes in hand. In the last few weeks, she’d learned that nothing steadied her hands after vigilante work with Blue than a good smoke.  
  
“I’ll stop calling you Red when you either start bringing your own costume, or stop calling me Blue.”

Searching through her pockets for her lighter gave Piper time to think, enough time to reconsider the biting comment that would have spilt out if not for the cigarette between her lips. She lit it and inhaled, resolving to leave the issue unsaid.  
  
“And I’ll stop calling you Blue when you give me something else to call you.”

 So much for that. She thought her tone bordered on nonchalant, but the thoughtful look from Blue just tensed her shoulders that bit more as the other woman turned her attention back to getting changed. Piper smoked in silence for a moment, mentally cursing herself for stepping over whatever imaginary line she must have just crossed. The thought kept her occupied, so much so she didn’t notice Blue making her way next to her until she spoke, sounding just as light hearted as she always did without a gun pointed at her, or maybe even a touch softer, more hesitant.  
  
“Is this any better?”

With her mask bunched into her tight fist, Blue looked positively sheepish. Piper didn’t know whether it was the look on her face, her whole, actual face, the gesture itself, or her last inhale, but a not altogether unpleasant tightness spread across her chest. She grinned despite herself, Blue reflecting the expression back at her with a cautious optimism.

“Bad news if you were expecting me to recognise you, Blue.”

Blue’s laughter was hearty, if a bit shaky, the grip on her mask relaxing as she stuffed it into the pocket of her jeans. Piper’s grin widened as Blue wiped her hand and extended it out to her.  
  
“Ouch, I can feel my ego deflating. The name’s Nora.”

 Nora. She never thought of it as a particularly interesting name, certainly not a heroic one, but maybe that’s why it struck a chord in the reporter. Shaking the extended hand with an embarrassing amount of enthusiasm, Piper had to remind herself that Blu- Nora, that Nora was just a person. She put on her cringey jumpsuit one leg at a time, just like everyone else.

“Huh. Nora. It suits you, Blue.”

With an exaggerated roll of her eyes and a grin, Nora slung her bag onto her back. She gestured vaguely towards the exit.

“I know a good bar a couple of blocks away, if you’re in the mood for some celebratory drinks. Y’know, before we get caught and the police ruin the night.”

She had no reason to say no. No work deadlines to be met, Nat was spending the night at the Rodriguez’s, and anywhere Nora picked out couldn’t be too bad, right? Taking a final drag from her cigarette, Piper tried to ignore the little flutter in her stomach.

“I’d like that.”

~

Piper didn’t exactly avoid Goodneighbour, per se. Okay, maybe that was a lie. She’d looked into the horror stories about the place, of people wandering into the area late at night and never coming back, and as far she could tell it was a load of bullshit. Still, there was something about the place that put her on edge. The Third Rail was no different when she and Nora first walked in, a certain grittiness seeming to coat every inch of the place and its patrons. But, she supposed while Nora gave a relaxed little wave to the wiry bartender, the place mightn’t be too bad. An hour and a couple of drinks later, she had almost forgotten any issues she might have had with the place. Their place at the bar gave Piper the perfect vantage point for people watching, and it was remarkable how normal they all seemed as the night went on, and the music wasn’t too bad either. Maybe a little bit more suggestive than Piper would like, the few times she actually zoned in enough to hear the lyrics, but not too bad. And she wasn’t being sentimental, she really wasn’t, but seeing Nora so at ease with her- no, just seeing her at ease, it had nothing to do with her- fuelled her high spirits just as much as, well, the actual spirits. As if reading her mind, Nora signalled over at the bartender. Their drinks were already refilled before Piper could protest.

“Geez, Blue, let me get this one.”

Nora made a face as she took a sip of her drink, seemingly trying to wave away the reporter’s concerns with a hurried hand gesture. She took a second to swallow, hand still waving away to Piper’s amusement.

“It’s fine, the owner and I are old friends. I’ll settle it with Whitechapel Charlie later, don’t worry about it.”

Piper smiled behind her glass as she lifted it to her lips, giving Nora a gentle dig into the side with her elbow. It might have just been her imagination, but she could have sworn that the place seemed to quieten down a bit.

“So crime fighting really pays the big bucks, huh Blue?”

Nora grinned back at her, looking like she had a comeback right on the tip of her tongue. But then an unfamiliar arm wrapped around her shoulders. She stiffened, and Piper considered giving the stranger a piece of mind, until she saw who it was. Of course, the fact that the undercurrent of chatter was the only thing to be heard was her biggest clue. Well, that and the sequined dress. She tried to ignore the knotting in her stomach. The beer obviously wasn’t agreeing with her. The familiarity of the singer’s teasing tone towards Nora had nothing to do with it.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes? Did you come all this way for little ol’ me?”

Piper sincerely hoped that the indignant little cough of hers wasn’t what drew Magnolia’s attention. Either way, the singer looked almost surprised to see her sitting there, an eyebrow raised as she looked her up and down. Piper would have liked to say she was completely unaffected by the appraisal, but the blush creeping up her neck foiled her attempts at nonchalance. She felt like a butterfly pinned to a board to be examined as her grip on the cold glass tightened, trying to ground herself. The arm draped around Nora’s shoulders fell away back to her side, but she looked as amused as ever when she looked back down at her. The glance Nora shot back at her was far less fond, and much more embarrassed.

“Apparently not. Don’t let me interrupt your little rendezvous, darling.”

Piper stared down at her drink, the fizzling bubbles suddenly a lot more interesting than the long look between the other two women. She didn’t know who was a bigger fish out of water, herself or Nora. Definitely not the smirking stranger at any rate. Nora gestured between the two women, sounding almost bashful all of a sudden.

“Piper, this is Magnolia. She’s…”  
  
Magnolia feigned shock, and Piper could almost feel herself shrinking under the gaze. Usually she was the one with all the research and information, but there was something about Magnolia’s knowing smile that left her feeling confused and out of place.

“Oh, this is the girl you were gushing about. Now it’s always been obvious, but I gotta say, you don’t have bad ta-”  
  
“Leaving, Magnolia is leaving.”

Magnolia laughed at the interruption, patting Nora on the back. They exchanged a look, Nora’s furrowed brow and pleading eyes just seeming to entertain Magnolia all the more.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I can take a hint. Nice meeting you, Piper.”

The wink Magnolia sent her way tightened up Piper’s throat, the uncomfortable feeling only getting worse as she let her hand linger on Nora’s shoulder for longer than necessary before she finally left. Nora watched her go, relaxing a bit once Magnolia was out of earshot. Piper wished that the knot in her stomach could have left with her.

“Sorry about Magnolia. She’s not always so… that, she just likes making me squirm. A bit like the sister I never wanted.”

Piper hoped her smile didn’t look as awkward as it felt. At least the tenseness was starting to fade, a small wave of relief washing over in its place. Not that she had a reason to be relieved. It wasn’t as if she had a reason to wish Magnolia was more like a sister to Nora than anything else. That would mean she was jealous, and she couldn’t be jealous unless she liked Blue. Not that she didn’t like Blue, who couldn’t like Blue? Funny, kind, genuine…. Oh. Piper took a swig of her drink, with a thought that would repeat in her head for the rest of her night.  
  
‘Oh, fuck.’


	4. Chapter 4

**Diamond City resident Cait Byrne’s trial begins tomorrow in relation to the fire of an abandoned lot, locally known as “The Combat Zone” due to the alleged fighting ring associated with it. Sources say that no one was harmed in the alleged arson attack, and that Ms. Byrne was taken into custody just hours after the incident. Although this originally seemed like an average arson case, the defense has reportedly claimed it will appeal this case to the highest level necessary, claiming that Ms. Byrne is on trial due to her status as a ‘gifted’ individual. A press statement from the Public Defender’s Office states: “Not only is the evidence circumstantial at best, but the fact that this trial is going forward is a breach of Ms. Byrne’s constitutional rights. We are fully dedicated to ensuring that not only Ms. Byrne, but all those with similar conditions, don’t become the new scapegoats of our legal system.” The prosecution are yet to reply to these allegations. Public opinion seems divided on the validity of the argument, with very vocal parties flocking to either side. A source within city hall says that extra security will be in place outside the courthouse tomorrow in anticipation of a spirited response from the citizens of Diamond City. We at Publick Occurrences will keep you updated as this story develops**.

They were right to put the extra security out, Piper thought while she squeezed her way through the eager crowd gathered around the steps of the court house. There was an undercurrent of nervous anticipation running through the crowd, their energy and attention focused solely on the people that had yet to arrive, specifically the poor girl on trial. The group around her seemed to agree, the “Free Cait” ensemble outnumbering the politically incorrect comfortably. A part of her was pretty pleased; it was weirdly satisfying to see the people of Diamond City on the streets, actually taking action about an issue plaguing the city. That little voice paused to sigh as she caught sight of a particular protest sign waving above their heads. “Leave the weirdos alone!” Well, at least they were trying. Sort of. She finally freed herself from the throng, flashing her press pass at the nearest police officer and heading up the stairs without breaking her stride. Or she was, until a firm grasp on her upper arm stopped her in her tracks. Piper fought the urge to roll her eyes as she turned with her press pass once again in hand.

“Look buddy, I’m allowed to be here. I know you’re just doin’ your job, let me do mine.”

“Really, Piper? Someone should tell the other Publick Occurrences reporter already inside to pack up and go home, in that case. Your press pass isn’t even valid for this year.”

Of course it was him. She scoffed, confident enough in the officer’s company to shrug his gloved hand away. Preston looked at her with a mixture of concern and amusement. Of course, the poor guy always seemed to look concerned about something. Preston crossed his arms over his chest, seeming to be doing his best to look like a stern authority figure. Piper’s exaggerated sigh misted in the crisp cold, shoving her hands and expired pass deep into her coat pockets.

“C’mon Garvey. The people deserve to know what’s going on in there, and not from some prick that only talks in legal jargon like Dunphy in there. It’s not a crime to watch a trial, is it?”

He furrowed his brow, Piper doing her best to look as if her editor hadn’t banned her from sitting on trials until the new year. After all, she was going to be on her best behaviour, and no one had to know. Besides, that lawyer deserved every insult hurled his way after he helped Skinny Malone get back on the streets again. A small part of her beamed internally, proud in the knowledge she and Blue were undoing at least part of that mistake, catching the criminals that fell through the system. Her confidence must have slipped astray from her train of thought, because then Preston had a hint of a smile, patting her firmly on the shoulder.

“...Alright, I’ll allow it. But this is the last time I’ll let it slide. I told your dad I’d keep you out of trouble an-”

Piper scoffed, patting his arm away. Her voice rose a tone, but thankfully didn’t break like she feared it would. She felt for Preston, she really did. He took his promises just as seriously as she did, but god she wished things could be like they used to be. No obligations, no heavy sense of duty, just two kids trying to keep each other out of trouble, somewhat successfully.

“You don’t have to that. Me and Nat, we’re fine. Just peachy.”

And there was the pregnant pause, a doubting eyebrow raised by Preston as Piper feared her smile was on the wrong side of the line between chipper and positively lying. Thankfully, the chatter from the crowd rose, the atmosphere shifting towards frantic when a black sedan pulled up just outside the courthouse. Piper saw her opportunity when Preston’s attention was drawn by the anxious crowd. She took the steps two at a time, calling out to the officer over her shoulder as she went.

“Looks like you’re about to have your hands full, I’ll leave you to it. Be seein’ you, Preston.”

She didn’t wait to see his reaction, too preoccupied by hoping that there would be a decent seat left for her inside to settle down in. In her humble opinion, nothing ruined a reporter’s eye for detail more than being unprepared and flustered. And Piper Wright was never unprepared. Or so she thought, pen and notepad in hand with two minutes to spare. But that was until she caught sight of the defense coming through the doors a moment later. The defendant was certainly eye-catching, mumbling under her breath and tugging at the collar of her shirt. Judging by the strange fit of her outfit, the disarray of her fiery hair, and the frequent clenching and unclenching of her fists, Ms. Cait Byrne wasn’t used to court appearances. Or at least high profile ones. But that wasn’t what left Piper’s jaw almost dropping to the floor. She did a double take, but they were already at the front of the room before she had a chance to confirm the creeping suspicion crawling up her back.

“All rise. Court is now in session, Judge Zeller presiding.”

She had enough of her wits about her to rise along with the rest of the courtroom. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe it was someone else, it had to be someone else. Piper took a few quiet breaths, rolling her shoulders as the judge gestured for them to take their seats again. She shouldn’t be jumping to conclusions. After all, Blue was a genuine human being with the capacity for compassion, it would be unfair to associate her with the hellspawn that went on to become defense attorneys based on a quick glance of whoever the hell was in charge of this case. She scribbled down her notes to clear her head, the typical jargon as the jury was sworn in and the prosecution made their opening statement. Despite herself her ears were straining to pick up the voice of the defense lawyer, hoping for one of the view times in her life that she was wrong.

“Your Honour, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, this is a clear case of biased profiling.”

Piper’s grip tightened on her pen, her words digging further into the page as the opening statement went on. Nora had a hell of a lot of explaining to do.

~

“This session will resume on the 28th. Until then, court is adjourned.”

The court started to empty out, a hefty number of the average joes who came to gawk obviously disappointed at the lack of drama during the proceedings. Piper supposed that’s the price people had to pay for their love of ‘Judge Judy’ and 'Law and Order’. Of course, it had been that bit more dramatic for Piper, her shock settling into a familiar ache in her bones as Nora continued to do the most morally corrupt job in the modern world. Sure, Cait seemed a victim of circumstance and prejudice, but how many people, bad people, were walking the streets because of Nora and her stupid silver tongue? Piper needed answers. Which is why she was lurking - no, not lurking, it wasn’t as if she was doing something she wasn’t supposed to - just outside the courtroom door, hoping to grab just a minute of Nora’s time. ‘And do just what, exactly?’, she thought with an internal groan.

‘Hey Blue, just stopped by to tell you that you’re the worst. See you on Thursday for drinks?’

Yeah, that was bound to go down well. Maybe now wasn’t the best time. She should go home, get her thoughts together, do something more productive than try to ambush her friend in broad daylight. “Wright, I didn’t expect to see you here.” And so the ambusher became the ambushed. One of these days, she was going to have to have a serious conversation with the universe about how it distributed all that bad luck her way. With a confident smile, Piper was ready to fake her out of one of the potentially most awkward conversations of her life.

“Dunphy, what a surprise! I was actually just looking for you.”

He actually had the nerve to laugh at that, arms crossed and his stupid little face looking incredibly smug. There weren’t many people that Piper held in the same low esteem as Mayor MacDonough, but Dunphy was always just that close to joining that prestigious club.

“Aren’t you on probation? I could have sworn I heard Richards say that if you stepped foot in a trial without his say-so, your resolution for the new year would be ‘get a new job’.”

And that was why. Piper didn’t know if it was the fact she was a woman, or just on the legal side of reckless, but there were more than a few asses like Dunphy at the Publick just waiting for her to get kicked out on her ass. Well, the joke was on them, because if there was one thing Piper could do far better than them, it was hunt down a story from the barest lead. That, and bluff like champ.

“Well, I thought you might want a heads up about the exclusive I just snagged for the trial, but maybe I should just keep it for myself. I hear the Boston Bugle is paying big bucks for reporters who get up off their asses to find their own sources.”

Her grin never wavered, but she could feel it stretch that bit wider as Dunphy visibly paled and his smirk disappeared. It was only for a couple of seconds, but it was enough to give Piper a bit of a triumphant kick. Served him right, in her eyes. She glanced over his the top of his head, thankfully spotting something that would seal the bluff before he had time to question it properly. Or worse, call Richards.

“I know you’re wondering what it is, so I won’t leave you in suspense. My good friend here has offered to give me all the details she’s at liberty to tell about the case. Nora, over here!”

She waved to the other woman who, despite the confusion on her face, made her way over with Cait not far behind. The pantsuit lent Nora a sense of severity, the familiar thoughtfulness on her face looking far more cold and calculating than Piper was exactly comfortable with. She was a bit surprised that when Nora smiled at her with the slightest hint of confusion, her mouth wasn’t full of shark teeth. Okay, maybe that was a bit of an exaggeration. Cait seemed to be under less pressure than she was during her entrance, the scruff of her jacket balled up in her fist and more buttons undone on her shirt than some people would find appropriate for court attire. She looked both Dunphy and Piper up and down once, and Piper could practically see the gears whirring away in her head. Whatever she figured out, her face relaxed and she settled for chewing at one of her nails as Nora politely extended her hand to the other (lesser) reporter.

“Nora, this is Laurence Dunphy, he works at the Publick too. I was just telling him about that little exposé we were talking about for the case.”

To her credit, Nora didn’t seem the slightest bit caught off guard. Piper made a mental note to thank Nora later as she let out a polite little laugh. Piper almost laughed a bit herself, but she figured that laughing at Dunphy’s wince during the handshake would be pushing her luck that bit much.

“Right, the case interview. I don’t normally do interviews, Laurence - can I call you Laurence? - but you and I both know how persistent Piper can be when she wants a story. I know, I know, going through a columnist for something like this is unorthodox, but I personally can’t think of anyone better to run this story than Piper here. I’d love to stay and chat, but my client and I have other engagements”.

Cait snorted at that, not bothering to disguise it at all. At least one of them was getting to enjoy Dunphy’s open-mouthed shock out loud. Nora gave Cait a gentle dig in the side with her elbow before continuing her way to the exit, throwing Piper a look over her shoulder as Cait trailed behind her. It was half amused, half asking for an explanation. Or was it a bit sharper than that, that tad more assertive and demanding and far more appropriate for the lawyer she’d seen in action earlier. No, no, that was unfair, Nora hadn’t shown any of the telltale signs of being an icy hearted witch like the other lawyers Piper had had the displeasure of crossing paths with.

‘During the one day you‘ve seen her at work’, a tiny, bothersome voice in her head reminded her.

But Nora and her look were gone before Piper’s thought could trail into anything more sinister, with Dunphy slinking away not too far behind them. Now, that was a sight that would keep her spirits up for days. Just the thought of that usually smug bastard scurrying back to Richards with his tail between his legs to tell everyone about her exclusive source was enough to plaster a smirk across Piper’s face. All she had to do was actually get that exclusive source to talk.

And try to leave all the name-calling until after the interview.


End file.
